


minus you

by starksnack



Series: harleypeter fics [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, High School, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Loss, No Sex, Parent Tony Stark, Prom, close enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-20 04:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/pseuds/starksnack
Summary: The florist on Park Avenue gives Harley a dozen roses for free the day he musters up the courage to ask his best friend, Peter Parker, to prom.





	1. Harley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aroacewritingplace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroacewritingplace/gifts).

> An anon on Tumblr asked me to write Parkner + Memory Loss for my Bad Things Happen Bingo Square.

The florist on Park Avenue gives Harley a dozen roses for free the day he musters up the courage to ask his best friend, Peter Parker, to prom.

They’re an elegant arrangement of roses and tulips bound with burlap and wrapped in a red lace bow. Harley runs his fingertips over the soft petals, bringing them to nose to inhale the fresh aroma of fresh flowers. This is how perfect days start.

It’s a sunny Friday morning and he’d been stressing about his promposal all week.

He asked May for advice while he was over at Peter’s house building a lego set with him and Ned. Peter had gone to the bathroom and Harley had seized the opportunity to get the opinion of someone who knew him best. She grinned at him, ruffling his hair before telling him to go for it with a knowing smile.

Tony pretty much said the same thing, ruffling his hair, a proud grin stretched across his face. He’d been the one to help Harley come up with a plan for asking Peter to the dance. Harley had settled on doing it at school so his friends would be there to ease the awkwardness in case things went sideways. Though Tony had assured him that it didn’t matter because there was no way Peter would say no.

The rest of the Avengers had echoed similar sentiments when he had blushingly mentioned it at a family dinner Peter was late to because his patrol had run over. Steve had been the one to suggest he buy flowers at the cute stand across the street because they always had the prettiest blooms.

As he was getting ready this morning, Steve had shot him a knowing grin over breakfast as Bruce drew a chocolate sauce heart in his pancakes. Tony had put an encouraging hand on his shoulder as Pepper knotted his tie and wished Harley good luck. Clint didn’t even crack a sarcastic comment about him asking Peter to prom, though Harley thought it had more to do with Natasha elbowing him in the side than anything else.

It’s nice to know that they all have his back.

With the roses clutched to his chest, Harley is floating on air the whole walk to school, a silly grin on his face. He’s been hopelessly pining for Peter since Tony invited him to move up to New York from Tennessee six months ago. The moment he met the shy, adorable scientist who was always willing to play fetch with Dum-E and Butterfingers, he was totally and utterly gone for him.

There’s just something so adorable about the way Peter pouts when he can’t figure out a math equation or when a new villain crops up and he’s brainstorming a way to catch them. He loves how Peter always steals his sweatshirts, pulling his hands against his chest and disappearing into the sweater so only his fluffy head of hair pokes out the top. Peter has the most beautiful laugh, and nothing makes Harley feel like the king of the world quite like hearing the melodious sound of Peter losing his shit, cheeks reddening in delight when Harley says something ridiculous or unexpected. He’s so beautiful and Harley’s heart could burst with how much he wants his best friend.

The brown brick of Midtown Tech comes into view and Harley walks faster, his heart picking up the pace in his chest as an uncontrollable grin eclipses his face. He brushes a blond curl out of his face, adjusting the bouquet in his grip and tightening his backpack straps. It’s go time. There’s no going back now.

MJ spots him as he’s power walking up the school steps shooting him a thumbs up and a rare smile as he passes. He grins back at her nervously and waves before pivoting and pulling open the metal doors. He confidently strides down the hallway, a confident bounce to his step as his lucky cowboy boots clack against the white tile. 

Students shoot him encouraging smiles and knowing grins as he struts by, pointing and grinning and whispering as he nods at his friends and waves. This is going to go great! He can’t wait to see the look on Peter’s face. He loves how easy it is to make the tiny brunet blush.

Peter’s locker is right beside his and Harley hides the roses behind his back as he approaches his best friend, heart in his throat. Conversations in the hallway stutter to a stop as students turn, moony-eyed, to stare.

The people of Midtown Tech love a good drama. Harley has heard more than one underclassmen whisper about how emotionally invested they are in his and Peter’s relationship. Apparently there’s a group chat for people who ‘ship’ them or something like that. It’s weird being thought of as entertainment for some students, but it means he gets a lot of support for moments like this and for that he’s forever grateful. 

“Hey Parker,” Harley leans against his locker, an easy smile on his face as he glances down at the brunet’s bright red converses and light wash jeans. Peter looks adorable, as always, curls a messy chocolate mop on his head. Harley resists the urge to reach up and bury his hands in his friend’s hair. 

“Harles!” Peter whirls around with an ecstatic smile, brown eyes wide and framed by long, inky lashes. The smaller boy looks adorable in a pilfered pink sweatshirt that he stole from Harley’s closet while he was sleeping over. He’s drowning in the fabric, the sleeves coming past his fingertips despite his constant efforts to push them up to his elbows. “Hey what’s up?”

“Nothing much,” Harley’s hand darts forward to brush a stray curl out of Peter’s face, tucking it behind his ear. Resisting the urge to touch Peter’s hair was always a losing battle. He grins, tilting his head toward Peter’s. “What about you?”

Peter shrugs, looking adorably bashful as he scuffs his shoe against the floor. His foot bumps against Harley’s and then his knees as he steps closer. He looks up at the blond through his lashes. “You know, the usual. Just wondering what you’re hiding behind your back.”

God, he’s adorable. Harley can’t wait to see his radiant smile.

“These flowers,” Harley pulls the bouquet out from behind his back showing them to Peter as his nerves swirl like a zoo trapped in his belly. “They’re the second most beautiful thing I’ve seen today.” He decides to fuck it and slips his arm around Peter’s waist pulling him closer with a wide grin. Their faces are inches apart and Harley uses their proximity to take in the wide swirling brown of Peter’s beautiful eyes. “I was wondering if I could go to prom with the first.”

Someone behind him gasps loudly, an awed sound emanating from a couple of the gathered students. Harley ignores them, his blue gaze focused on Peter’s expression, waiting for a response.

“Oh my god,” Peter’s mouth drops open as he looks up at Harley and back down at the flowers and back up. His cheeks are an adorable rosy red, almost enough to match the flowers, and Harley resists the urge to lean forward and press kisses to both of them. “Yes, of course, I want to go to prom with you.”

Clapping erupts from the students around them and Peter buries his face in Harley’s shoulder, embarrassed. With a smile, Harley presses a kiss to his curly locks, holding him close. He noses into Peter’s shoulder, the scent of lavender washing over him and god, Peter smells like him and it drives a bout of possession through him that makes his fingertips tingle.

So, maybe he’s in love with Peter Parker, but maybe Peter Parker is in love with him too.

That happened five hours ago. And boy, had those measly three hundred or so minutes changed everything in the worst possible way. Because Peter had been called out on Avengers business a little after they had gotten to Avengers Tower after school. His best friend had gone to save the world with a grin on his face and had been caught under a falling building, suffering a head injury and a broken arm.

Harley had seen it happen on CNN, shaky camera footage from someone in a nearby building catching Peter rushing heroically into a building to try and keep it from crumbling. God, he was so brave, Harley had flipped through all the news channels, biting his nails down to nubs as he asked Jarvis to monitor the comms and social media for news on Spiderman.

The phone rang, Tony’s number flashing across the screen and Harley picked it up with shaking fingers, his lip caught between his teeth as he choked out a strained hello. He squeezed his eyes shut, fear welling in his eyes and dripping down his face as he hoped this wasn’t the sort of call that would take the breath out of his lungs in the worst possible way.

Tony explained slowly that Peter was at New York general until he could be moved to the Avengers medical bay for monitoring. All Harley heard was that his best friend was alive and that was all he needed to book it to the hospital with mismatched sneakers and Peter’s beanie pulled over his head.

Which brings him to now.

Harley rubs his fingers down his face, watching the minutes tick by on the unforgiving clock as Peter lays peacefully in the hospital bed. His face is pale, lips dry and cracked as he stutters through a couple of breaths. With trembling fingers, he lays his hand gently on Peter’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing under his palm.

“He’ll be okay,” Pepper’s voice sounds from behind him and Harley startles, brushing his curls out of his face to look at her. He knows he looks like shit, nose red and eyes bloodshot like he’s been crying, which he has been. His cheeks are itchy from the dried tears. Now he’s just exhausted and it shows in the defeated slump of his shoulders.

With a choked sob Harley buries his face in Pepper’s stomach as she strokes his hair comfortingly. “Please don’t lie to me,” he mumbles into the fabric of her very expensive pantsuit.

“I’m not,” she says simply and Harley looks up at her through his bangs. She offers him a watery smile. “Peter would never miss prom with you. He’s been looking forward to it for months.”

Harley pulls away with a laugh, wiping his eyes as he looks back at Peter. She’s totally right, Peter would never let himself miss the biggest social event of the year. He was supposed to be taking pictures for the school newspaper.

Lacing his fingers with Peter’s hand that isn’t broken, Harley presses a kiss to his bruised knuckles with a sigh. The brunet’s left hand is in a bright red cast (Harley picked out the color) and Steve is coming by later with sharpies so Harley can decorate it.

“Can I drive you home?” Pepper’s fingers are carding carefully through his hair, nails scraping along his scalp. “You need to get some sleep.”

“No thank you,” Harley doesn’t let go of Peter’s hand, leaning onto the hospital bed and resting his head on his arms.

Pepper’s fingers leave his hair and then a soft grey blanket is draped across his shoulders smelling like the dryer sheets Tony likes to use and her perfume. Harley sighs as the redhead’s fingers smooth the soft fabric across his arm, passing him a warm smile. She drops a stuffed duffle bag by the door, probably packed with Peter’s clothes for when he’s ready to change out of the pink gown patterned with elephants that the doctors put him in. “Tony’s talking to the doctors, but he’ll be in soon. The rest of the team is on their way, Steve is bringing you a hot pocket.”

The staccato clack of Pepper’s heels against the tile follows her down the hallway as she leaves taking all the warmth in the room with her. Harley shivers alone, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. He runs his fingers across the soft fabric, bringing it up to rub against his cheek.

He rests his head against his arm, one hand on Peter’s chest to feel his breathing. Between one moment and the next, Harley blinks awake to find that he’s fallen asleep against Peter’s thigh, the blankets leaving soft creases in his cheek.

“You’re okay, kiddo,” Tony’s voice comes from behind him and Harley turns to see him slumped in a plastic chair against the wall, mouth stuffed full of hot pocket. “Steve made these yesterday, but thanks to yours truly, they’re still warm. Go long.”

Harley catches the foil-wrapped hot pocket in one hand, the other still splayed across Peter’s chest. He peels back one corner, the smell of warm, gooey cheese and pepperoni hitting him. God, he loves comfort food. “Thank you,” he mumbles through a mouthful of delicious food.

Beneath his fingers, Peter’s breath hitches and Harley watches as his nose wrinkles, mouth screwed up as he shifts in bed. His lashes flutter and Harley hurries to swallow so he can smile at Peter without his mouth full.

A small cough pushes through Peter’s lips as he squints against the bright hospital lights and Harley is off like a shot, pouring his friend a glass of cool water into a plastic cup with a smiley face on it.

“Hey there, darlin’,” Harley brushes Peter’s hair out of his eyes, the stress pulling his accent out from the depths of his lungs. He holds the straw to Peter’s lips, coaxing the smaller boy to take a couple of slow sips. “You gave us quite the scare there. How’s the head?”

“Kinda fuzzy,” Peter’s voice is small and distant as he rubs the back of his head, eyes glazed over. He pokes at the IV, before looking out the window with furrowed brows. His gaze doesn’t warm the way it normally does as it settles on Harley, but the blond chalks that up to an intense amount of painkillers. Peter groans, wincing as he puts a hand to his side. “I’m not feeling too good.”

Tony takes over, with an explanation, shooting Peter a warm easy smile as he talks. “The doctor said you might feel a little woozy and disoriented. The painkillers don’t work all that well with your metabolism but they’ve given you enough to hopefully make you feel a little better. You shouldn’t be moving around all that much until your head is a hundred percent better. It won’t be long though because of your super fast healing. We can probably take you home tonight. There won’t be any movie marathons, but we can have a board games night.”

Peter frowns and Harley remembers the dance, quick to reassure his best friend and hopefully soon boyfriend. “It’s totally okay if you can’t make prom next weekend, we can put up lights around the tower and have FRIDAY play something real slow. A prom just for you and me.”

“You and me?” Peter asks, confusion crossing his features as he finally focuses on Harley, his nose wrinkling in a way that Harley usually finds adorable, but now it sparks an inkling of fear in his chest. “Uhh, I don’t think I know you. Besides, I’m going to ask MJ to prom.”

Harley steps back, his heart stuttering to a stop in his rib cage. “Peter, that’s not funny.”

It’s like he can’t breathe. Feeling like a fool yet again, waiting for something that will never happen. His dad left and then Tony left, even though he did come back, and now Peter is pretending they don’t know each other and sure he’ll apologize and they’ll laugh about it later, but right now it feels like a heavy weight on his chest, his lungs collapsing as he struggles to take in each breath. He wants to sob as his eyes meet Peter’s beautiful brown ones.

They don’t hold even the tiniest hint of recognition. They’re swimming with confusion and empathy and concern. Nothing like the normal bright intelligent glint with the small hint of teasing and affection.

“Hey, hey,” Tony’s hand is grounding on his wrist, and Harley whirls around to face him, catching the inscrutable expression crossing his features as his gaze darts between the two of them. He smiles kindly, cocking his head towards the door. “You wanna step outside for a moment? I gotta talk to Petey.”

Taking the offered out, Harley heads to the hallway, taking a seat in one of the unforgiving plastic chairs that always makes his back ache something fierce. Tony always makes everything better. He’ll explain to Peter that those kinds of jokes really aren’t funny, and then Harley will be back to flirting with him relentlessly and kissing his shoulers and playing with his hair.

That’s not what happens.

Hours later, when Tony finally emerges from Peter’s hospital room, face pale as a sheet, he silently sits down beside Harley. Minutes pass in silence as he waits for Tony to speak, fingers twisting anxiously in his lap as anxiety eats away at his heart, frantically beating in his chest like a caged bird’s wings. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Harley asks, unable to hold it in any longer

Tony pulls Harley into a side hug as if to cushion the harsh words between their bodies. “He has amnesia,” it’s like a punch to the chest and before Harley can decide whether he wants to laugh or sob at the harsh reality of it all, Tony is continuing. “The doctors say he’s lost almost nine months, he knows he’s spiderman, but he doesn’t remember you at all.”

And if that wasn’t like nails on a chalkboard. Harley winces, lashes wet as he blinked away hopeless tears. “Do you think he’ll ever gain his memories back?” Harley asks, glad that Tony ignores the way his voice shakes like a leaf stapled to a tree in the New York winter wind.

“I’m sorry kiddo, I don’t know.” Tony runs his fingers through Harley’s hair. “The doctor thinks maybe you can help because the two of you spend so much time together. Just being around him should work wonders, but mentioning things he can’t remember will just frustrate him and make it harder.”

He lets that sink in. There goes six months' worth of shared memories. Of trips to the park and late-night movie marathons and water balloon fights on the terrace. There goes their inside jokes and plans for prom. Harley drops his head into his hands with a sigh.

“So, I guess this means we can’t go to prom together.” Harley murmurs dejectedly, he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. At this point, he would probably just skip the dance altogether. He couldn’t imagine going only to see Peter and MJ slow dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

“Why don’t you head back to the tower? Get some rest.” Tony rubs a comforting hand down Harley’s back. “Steve made your favorite and the rest of the team are having dinner and getting ready for Peter to be released from the hospital.”

Harley nods. Peter’s okay- well, he’s not okay, but he’s not bodily injured aside from the broken arm. Besides, Harley doesn’t think he can be around his best friend right now. Especially when Peter doesn’t even know who he is.

Grabbing his bag and slipping on his sweater, he heads out of the hospital and into the unforgiving night.


	2. Peter

Through the glass doors, Peter watches it all play out with curious eyes. Sees Tony drop into the seat beside the strange boy and give him a tight hug. He briefly wonders about their relationship. Is he Mr. Stark’s son? Peter grits his teeth in jealousy. There’s no way, he would have heard about it from Tony if he had a kid.

Mr. Stark is speaking to him softly, fingers brushing through his soft blond hair. Just watching them, his fingers tingle with the memory of silky smooth curls under his palms, silent laughter echoing in his ears as the warm smell of sandalwood washed over him in soothing waves. .

Peter frowns, shaking the weird feeling off and focusing on his broken arm. It’ll probably be healed within the week. The doctors had done a whole bunch of tests since Mr. Stark had kicked the boy out of the room. Apparently, he was missing a lot of time. Getting hit in the head will do that to you.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks as the man steps back into the room, shoulders slumped. 

“Tony,” he corrects, dropping into the plastic chair by his bedside with an annoyed wince. He shifts uncomfortably before tossing a glance over his shoulder back at the empty waiting room. That’s when Peter realizes that the other boy is gone and his chest aches something fierce for no apparent related reason. He should probably talk to the nurse about that. Tony forces a smile, all his attention on Peter now that the other boy is gone. “How you feeling, kid? That was quite the hit you took.”

It’s weird for Peter. Seeing his arm broken and not being able to remember how it got that way. He runs his fingers down the wrap which is the exact shade of red he adores. Whoever picked it out, really knew Peter well.

“Good,” Peter responds, his hand coming up to trace his fingers across the back of his head where a white bandage is wrapped around his skull. It’s not painful or anything. Just annoying that he can’t remember getting it. “Who was the boy that was in here earlier? The one that was sitting outside and just left?”

For some reason, his familiar eyes and kind smile made Peter feel warm as he had blinked back into consciousness. It was crazy because Peter had never met him before, yet he felt like he had known him his whole life. It was so absurd feeling safe and comfortable around someone you don’t remember meeting.

Mr. Stark smiles knowingly at him as though he sees exactly where Peter’s brain went in asking about the boy. He leans his elbows on Peter’s bed, resting his chin on his hands. 

“That was Harley.”

The name sends a delighted shiver down Peter’s spine and happiness snuggles against the inside of his chest. “Harley,” he whispers the words to himself, feels the familiar way his mouth wraps around it. His tongue knows the name like he’s said it a million times even though his brain can’t even remember what the boy sounds like. He mouths the name again. Sounds kind of weird though. He tries again, “Harles..?”

Mr. Stark’s face lights up and he leans forward in his seat, anticipation, and delight written across his features. Pete finally feels like he did something right and he relaxes. That is until Tony speaks up. “You remember him?”

It kills Peter to disappoint his mentor, frowning as he shakes his head. The motion feels wrong, unease settling deep in his belly as he shifts uncomfortably in the hospital bed. Tony’s shoulders slump in defeat and he runs a hand across his face as he leans back in his chair. Peter wants to remedy it though, trying desperately to think back to the quick conversation they had before Mr. Stark had ushered him out. “He said something about prom though. Have I already asked MJ?”

“Not yet,” Tony rubs a hand across his chest like it pains his heart. Peter doesn’t understand why though. He can’t help feeling like he’s missing something important. It itches across his tongue like peppermint as he tries to think about what he needs to remember. Mr. Stark cocks his head to the side, eyes calculating, “you’ve been injured pretty bad though, maybe you shouldn’t go to prom.”

No way, Peter can’t miss the biggest social event of the year. He’s supposed to be taking photos for the school newspaper, he won’t let them down. Not to mention, MJ deserves better than being ditched by her date, even if he hasn’t asked her to prom yet. “I have to go to prom, Mr. Stark. I want to show MJ a good time. She’s so beautiful and she deserves the world.”

“Okay,” Tony nods, sitting up and rubbing his palms down his jean-clad legs. For some reason, there’s a strange note of anxiety across his features. “I think we should be able to take you home today thanks to your accelerated healing. You can have dinner with the team and then we can come up with a promposal idea.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter beams, excitement thrumming through his veins. There’s an unfamiliar feeling that comes along with it, a strange tingling across the back of his neck as he thinks about going to prom with MJ, but Peter chalks it up to nerves. He’s never asked out a girl before, but he’s pretty sure it will go well.

They get Peter checked out of the general hospital pretty easily and then he’s being helped into the back of one of Tony’s cars. He slumps against the seat, running his fingers through his hair and over the bandage. It will probably heal before he has to go to school on Monday. If not, he doesn’t know how he’s going to explain the injury to the people who don’t know he’s Spiderman. Maybe Harley can help.

Peter startles, focusing on the foreign thought. A memory or something close to it? Maybe his brain just remembers Harley as being a really good liar so he’s the one to go to for coming up with something believable. The idea rankles and Peter shakes his head, that sounds wrong. He stations his train of thought for now, feeling a vibration against his leg.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Peter is surprised to find he has several texts and missed calls. There are three calls from Ned, one text from MJ, and several of both from a someone named <3 on Peter’s phone.

It’s weird that MJ isn’t the one with the heart. Maybe it’s a joke that Peter doesn’t remember making? Or he’s dating someone else. That would explain why Mr. Stark had looked so confused when Peter had said he wanted to ask MJ out to prom. Peter frowns, unlocking his phone and hitting his message app. He hits the one with the heart, reading the most recent message from the sender.

[7:14 pm]  _ Hey darling, hang in there, I’m heading to the hospital I’ll- _

Mr. Stark pulls the phone out of his hand before he can finish. “Sorry kiddo,” and Tony does look apologetic as he slips the phone into the pocket of his jacket. “I forgot the team had left this in your bag. Doc said no screens until your concussion goes away.”

“Am I dating someone?” Peter asks, his head cocked to the side. If it wasn’t MJ, who could it be? Probably not Ned and there was no one else with whom Peter was close enough to have asked out. In less than a year, how could he have met someone and fallen in love?

“Not really,” Mr. Stark responds twisting his hands in his lap. He’s not meeting Peter’s eyes which is weird, but Mr. Stark would never lie to him. “The doctors said you would remember it all on your own.”

“Okay,” Peter nods, frustrated. He hates being treated like a kid, it’s like trying to prove himself as a real superhero all over again.

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, Peter tapping his fingers restlessly against his knees as he watches the buildings pass outside. There are no major differences in the skyline, but in the everyday things that Peter doesn’t recognize like new graffiti on buildings and different flyers on street posts and repainted shop signs.

When they arrive at the tower, Peter makes a beeline for the elevator, asking Jarvis to take him to his room. He doesn’t really sleep at the tower, but he has a place to hang on Tony’s floor if he doesn’t feel like swinging back to Aunt May’s place in the rain or darkness or both. 

“I’ll save you some lasagna,” Mr. Stark says as the elevator doors open to the common room. Peter can see the Avengers all gathered around the table and he’s excited to shower so he can join them. They’ve always accepted him, so he knows they’ll be kind about helping him remember.

There’s a certain note of deep boyish laughter coming from the table that sets Peter on fire, a ghost of a smile pulling on his lips. And then the door is closing behind Mr. Stark and a desolate sense of emptiness weighs heavily on Peter’s slumped shoulders.

When he steps into his room, the first thing that catches his eye is a vase full of supple roses in full bloom sitting on his white wooden dresser. The stems are a deep shade of healthy green flowering into dark red, seductive petals that send an excited thrill through Peter.

Did he already buy flowers for MJ? They weren’t really her thing, but if he bought them, then maybe she had said something to warrant him buying them for her.

Peter quickly showers the smell of antiseptic and saline off him, happy to finally be rid of the gross hospital scent that always seems to linger. There were, oddly enough, two different shampoos in the stall. One of them was Peter’s regular ocean breeze one from Bath and Body Works that he was absolutely obsessed with, the other was an opaque black bottle with just the word ‘shamp’ across the front. It looked like the kind used for travel.

Lifting the foreign one to his nose, he was hit with the overwhelming smell of sandalwood and safety. Peter closed his eyes, the sweet following note hitting his senses with a warm rush like a firm hug. God, it smells so familiar despite the fact that he can’t remember where he’s smelled it before. His brain is grasping at straws and he hates it, but he can’t stop taking deep inhales from the bottle like it’s oxygen. Before Peter can think better of it, he’s lathering the liquid between his hands and scrubbing it through his scalp with a relieved sigh. The tension leaks from his shoulders, the smell enveloping him like a warm hug.

He emerges from the shower in a cloud of steam, a contented feeling settled in his chest as he dries himself off in the mirror.  _ Hey there darlin’,  _ echoes in his mind as his eyes meet his reflection. It’s so startling but he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face. There’s a pressing headache building in the back of his head like he’s missing something important and his brain is getting frustrated with him. It’s probably just the stress of the amnesia so he ignores it, making a mental note to ask Mr. Stark for pain meds. He probably just needs a nap and his healing factor will take care of it.

He pulls open the first drawer in his dresser and is surprised to find a lot of unfamiliar clothing. It’s kind of weird that he got a whole new wardrobe in the six months he had forgotten. Or maybe not because he recognizes the t-shirts in the next drawer over. Those science puns are definitely things that he bought with aunt May while black Friday shopping. It’s just the sweatshirts in the drawer he had first opened that he doesn’t recognize. He digs through a little more and finds a couple of other shirts and one or two pairs of joggers.

Maybe he had bought more lounge clothes for just hanging out? He had a room at the tower and at Aunt May’s house, he had probably been afraid of not having clothes at one place or the other. He pulls out a pair of soft pair of black joggers, holding them up to his body. They’re a size too big, which is weird, but maybe Peter bought it online and didn’t want to go through the hassle of returning it. He pulls it on before digging through the drawer for a sweatshirt.

A soft baby blue one catches his eyes and he pulls it over his head. It smells like the sandalwood shampoo from the bathroom so clearly all these clothes are his and a lot had changed in the last six months that he was missing. The sweatshirt is also a size too big, but Peter has never been the best at buying clothes for himself.

Conversation in the dining room ceases when Peter walks in, fresh from his shower. Most of the team is finished, reclining in their chairs with full bellies. There’s a healthy serving of lasagna, somehow still steaming in the place beside Tony.

“Hey Pete,” Tony pats him on the shoulder handing him a fork. “Start eating and I’ll grab your meds.”

He looks around the table, his eyes meeting the guy from before- Harley, he remembers- sitting across from him. His blond hair is a fluffy mess of curls around his head, eyes red-rimmed like he’s been crying but the smirk on his face betrays no emotion.

“Hey, I’m Peter.” He blushes profusely, looking back down at his dinner. Way to make it awkward Parker. “It’s probably weird that I’m introducing myself cause we already know each other but I don’t remember.” He looks up at Harley through his lashes, spearing his lasagna.

Harley bites his lip, his eyes looking suspiciously wet as he looks down at his empty plate. “I’m Harley, it’s nice to meet you.”

His voice washes over Peter like a wave, and he shivers in his seat. The weirdest feeling of deja vu washes over Peter. Which makes sense because they’ve done this before. Somewhere in the six months of time he can’t remember, he had met Harley and they had done introductions. He wishes he could remember, but he can’t.

Clint eyes Peter weirdly before speaking, a mischevious smirk pulling at his lips. “Is anyone going to tell the kid that he has Keen- OW! What the hell, Nat?”

She swears at him in another language before smiling sweetly at Harley, something unspoken between them. Peter hates that he can’t pick out the emotions in their inscrutable expressions. He’s sure he would understand exactly what Nat was thinking about if he had all his memories. “Don’t worry Harley, I’ll get him back later.”

Harley buries his face in his hands, mumbling something unintelligible. His ears are red, so embarrassment, Peter guesses. Clint pouts at Natasha and Steve shoots them both warning looks. 

Peter hates that Harley won’t even look at him. He thinks about it and the accompanying feeling of wrong that surges across his hips as he waits to see those beautiful blue eyes focused on his and is disappointed.

Woah, that’s a weird thought. Objectively, Harley is kinda beautiful. Peter watches him from across the table as he picks at the sleeve of his sweatshirt. It’s a very tight AcaDeca shirt but Harley’s not on the roster. Or at least Peter doesn’t remember that and he doesn’t have his phone with him to check. He moves on to Harley’s face. He’s got a strong jaw and a cute nose that scrunches up when Peter pokes it. Wait, no, Peter’s never done that before. Hahaha… unless??...

Clint and Nat are still arguing in hushed voices at the end of the table and Peter picks up his own name, using his augmented hearing to tune in to the conversation.

“Peter is over there eye-fucking his-” Clint is whisper-arguing, hand flying out to gesture at where Peter is sitting and trying very hard to make it not obvious that’s he’s eavesdropping.

“Don’t say that you idiot,” Nat cuts him off, her voice sharp despite the fact that the rest of the table is oblivious to what they’re saying. “You know you have to wait for him to remember on his own.”

“And watch that brat, Keener, sulk?”

Keener? Peter frowns. Who’s that?

“Their friendship will survive.” Nat crosses her arms over her chest. “Now shut up before I toss you over my shoulder.”

“Kinky-”

Peter stops listening after that, disgust screwing up his features. God that’s gross. He peeks at Mr. Stark out of the corner of his eye. His phone is probably still in his jacket pocket, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to get it back. He’s never tried to pick a pocket before, but he isn’t sure his first time should be with his mentor who is also a genius.’

“What’s up kid?” Tony asks taking a sip from his tumbler. It looks like liquor, but Peter can smell that it’s apple juice. “Whatever it is, just ask. I may not be able to answer, but I’ll try my best.”

“Can I please have my phone?” He bats his lashes, hands under his chin as he pleads.

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes, pulling the phone out of his pocket and handing it over to Peter. “Five minutes of screen time. But only because I would be a hypocrite if I told you to follow the doctor’s orders exactly.”

Peter unlocks his phone, pulling up his text messages. He clicks on the search bar typing in Keener. Nothing comes up and he frowns. So this Keener is supposed to be a good friend that he has somehow made in the last six months, but he doesn’t have this person’s number. What kind of name was Keener anyway?

While he has his phone, he should probably see if he can figure out who <3 is. He glances at the clock and frowns. He only has two minutes left to get his detective skills on.

Peter clears his search, fingers flying across his keyboard. <3 comes up first and Peter clicks on it, scrolling back to where he had last said something.

[3:44 pm]  _ I’m getting called out, but I would love to make you dinner when I get back. _

It’s weird that Peter would offer to make <3 dinner, he knows he’s a disaster in the kitchen. Had he magically learned how to make food in the six months he couldn’t remember?

The rest of the texts are from <3, each one more worried for him than the last and something warms in Peter knowing someone cares about him so deeply.

[4:01 pm]  _ Sorry I couldn’t give you a good luck kiss like always. _

[4:49 pm]  _ I’ve never asked, but does Karen read these to you in the suit? _

[5:23 pm]  _ Can’t wait for you to get home so I can kiss your bruises better. _

[5:25 pm]  _ Sorry Karen, if you had to read that out loud I just want to show Peter how much I love him. _

“Alright Peter, I’m gonna need that back.” Mr. Stark holds out his hand, and Peter’s heard picks up in his chest, fingers clenching around his phone tighter.

“Can I just send one text super quick?” Peter asks turning his body so Mr. Stark will have to reach around him if he wants to forcibly take Peter’s phone.

“What did you do with your five minutes?” Mr. Stark sighs, but Peter already knows he’s going to say yes.

“Probably wasted it watching TikToks,” Clint snorts from the other side of the table and Natasha smiles, putting her head in her hands.

“Fine,” Mr Stark rolls his eyes, “but be quick and don’t tell Bruce.” Tony raises his eyebrows at his science bro across the table and the doctor turns covers his eyes with a deep, long-suffering sigh. 

Peter quickly taps out a text to <3, hitting send and giving it back to Tony. “Thank you.”

“Anytime kid.” Tony smiles, leaving the phone on the table and ruffling Peter’s hair.

The Kim Possible text tone erupts from across the table and Peter’s brows fly up as Harley digs into his pocket, fishing out his phone. He looks at the screen, eyes filling with tears and Peter has to fight off the immense urge to rush around the table to give him a hug. It hits him like a punch to the chest and he wraps his arms around his torso, heart hurting for what his brain thinks is an absolute stranger.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks, his head cocked to the side.

Harley looks up at him, and Peter is overcome with the full force of his raw sadness. Peter wants to wipe that look off his face and protect him from anyone who would ever make him feel that way. It hurts him, how upset Harley is and there is nothing Peter wants nothing more than to wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him away from the rest of the world. To treat him the way he deserves.

“Nothing,” Harley’s grin is sad and that rips something vicious inside Peter. “I’m fine.”

Peter doesn’t even need to know him that well to know that it’s an absolute lie. And it breaks his heart.


	3. Harley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ymmv with this one, please stay safe babes
> 
> TW FOR: (SPOILERS)  
\- past underage drinking (one paragraph, Harley remembers a party)  
\- accidental self arm (a few sentences, Harley scratches his arms no blood mention)  
\- vomiting (allusion and mention of bile, no actual throwing up happens)  
If you think something should be added ot this list that isn't please drop me a comment.
> 
> And if any of you ever want to talk about anything, please feel free to DM me on Tumblr or Instagram @starksnack and I would be happy to listen to you vent or chat about how you're feeling. I'm always here to help y'all.

For a split second, when Peter emerges from the elevator dressed in Harley’s clothes and engulfed in his scent, he thinks that suddenly his best friend has his memories back and maybe everything will be okay.

And then Peter introduces himself, an adorably tentative look on his face and Harley just wants to cry. He almost does.

He avoids Peter’s unfamiliar eyes, his fingers tracing the H carved into the table from his first visit to the tower so many years ago. Before Peter. Before he knew his life could be so much better just because it had a small geeky science nerd in it.

His phone beeps and Harley wasn’t expecting to see a text from Peter. The words on the screen physically ache like a fist around his heart. Harley normally wouldn’t be embarrassed to break down surrounded by his family, but Peter is there and he doesn’t want to make it harder on him so he lies and says that he’s okay. It’s like a double-sided sword.

The last thing he wants to do is upset Peter, so he does the one thing he promised he never would and lies through his teeth. Lies to his best friend about being okay and it shatters his heart to see the shock on Peter’s face because while his brain doesn’t remember the promise his heart does and Harley will never be able to forgive himself. It’s almost enough for him to want to book the next plane to Tennessee and not have to deal with Peter’s look of unrecognition ever again.

“Do you think you’ll be going to school on Monday?” Bruce pipes up from where he’s sitting on Harley’s right. He fiddles with his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose as he shoots Harley an inscrutable look. He knows Bruce is trying to be supportive, but it just ends up hurting just a little more. He’s scrambling for an excuse to keep Peter home, but his best friend is determined to ask MJ to go with him. “Even with your enhanced healing factor, I’m not entirely sure you’ll fully recover by the end of the weekend.”

Steve, who’s sitting on Harley’s other side and making big, concerned eyes at Tony across the table, cuts in before Peter can respond. “I don’t think we should really send Peter to school when he can’t even remember the material he learned these last few months.” He shoots an obvious look indicating at Harley before tilting his head back at his co-leader. “Maybe we should keep him home until he fully recovers.”

“I have to go to school.” Peter’s eyes are wide and frantic as he sets down his fork beside his plate. He’s completely oblivious to the silent conversation Tony and Steve are having as he talks. “I have to ask MJ to prom before the flowers I bought her die.”

Harley chokes on thin air, his elbow flying up to cover his mouth as he coughs violently into the sleeve. Bruce gently rubs his back as Nat gets up from her seat to pour Harley a glass of cool water from the fridge. Steve gets up too to collect the dirty plates, whispering something to Natasha as he passes her. He accepts the glass from her gratefully, chugging it all down, eyes closed to Peter’s concerned expression across the table.

“I think I can get all the material down from today to tomorrow and be okay to go to school,” Peter reasons with a frown. He turns his eyes to Harley. “Can you teach me the class material?”

Steve settles a sympathetic hand on Harley’s shoulder at the same time, a kind smile on his face. “Would you like to help me do the dishes, son?”

It takes everything in the blond not to shake Steve’s hand off his shoulder. To yell about how he doesn’t need his pity, or the excuse to leave the table because every word coming out of Peter’s mouth hurts so much he can’t breathe.

He squeezes his eyes shut, remembering this morning before everything went to shit. Remembers kissing Peter’s nose and watching it scrunch up adorably. He remembers laying his head on Peter’s shoulder at lunch, letting him push cherries past his lips as they listened to MJ and Ned bitch about their shared classes. He remembers hugging Peter before their last class, excited to see him after so they could walk back to Peter’s place together after school. They were going to build the Sanctum Sanctorum. Harley had asked Tony to special order all the parts and the billionaire had with an eye roll. Only they hadn’t gotten that far, because the villain of the week had stolen the Peter from before from him.

He can’t do this.

“I’ll help with the dishes.” He stands up abruptly, ignoring Peter’s hurt expression as he follows Steve to the sink without answering his question.

The open floor concept means that the kitchen is not a complete escape from Peter’s gaze, but Harley ignores the soft murmured voices on the other side of the room, turning on the warm tap spray. Steve arrives at his side, with the stack of plates, helping him rinse them off and scrubbing them off in the warm soapy water.

“Hey son,” Steve whispers low enough that the rest of the team can’t hear him over the splashing in the sink. “I know you have a room on Tony and Pepper’s floor, but I think Peter is staying in his room on their floor for the weekend so you can sleep in my guest room until all of this gets solved.” 

Harley nods, relief spreading across his chest as he lets out a sigh. He dries his hands on the dishcloth to give Steve a hug. “Thanks, Cap,” he mumbles 

He gets a tight embrace in return, Steve’s warm fingers brushing softly through his hair.

They finish the rest of the dishes in silence, the quiet clinking of porcelain in the sink as Steve washes and Harley dries. He can hear Bruce talking statistics about amnesia in the background as Peter pleads his case for going to school but he tunes them out, focusing instead on the repetitive drying of each dish Steve hands him.

When he finally finishes and dries his hands, he feels much calmer, his fingers warm from the water. Peter will remember, there’s no way he could forget a friendship like theirs. Even if they don’t end up going to prom together. Even if Peter can’t ever love Harley the way he did before the injury. Just friends is enough.

“I’m heading up to bed.” He points at the elevator, avoiding Peter’s eyes as he surveys the table. He can’t look at him right now and not be recognized. Harley is perfectly happy in his bubble of ignorance. In his hope that Peter will remember.

He plasters on a fake grin as he heads for the elevator. Finger jamming the button just a little too hard as he waits for Jarvis to send the elevator up to him. He steps into the cabin, leaning against the wall, back to the door.

Through the glass, the moon is bright in the sky, a thousand stars stretched out across the sky in a weighted blanket that pins Harley in this singular moment. They’re the same stars that were out last night when he and Peter sat on the roof and drank cola and laughed at dumb puns on Tumblr. 

“Young sir,” Jarvis’ voice startles him and he looks up at the ceiling, a bad habit that Tony consistently teases him about. “We’ve arrived at Captain Rogers’ floor. Do you require further assistance?”

Harley turns to look at Steve’s floor, confused when he finds it blurry, the colour muddled in his vision. It’s him, he realizes, wiping his eyes and finding tears. They track down his cheeks like a bitter kiss from the sea and he viciously scrubs at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “It’s okay Jarvis, can you just text Tony and tell him that I’m staying at Steve’s tonight?”

Stepping off the elevator, he makes a beeline for the guest bedroom on Steve’s floor. Pushing open the door, Harley is immediately hit with the smell of Irish soap and oil paint. His fingers find the light switch and his breath catches in his throat as he sees the walls, covered in Steve’s art. There’s a drop cloth and Steve’s easel in the corner, paintbrushes and clean buckets waiting for Steve to come and use them again.

The wall across from the door has three paintings on it, each brushstroke lovingly detailed down the canvas. Harley knew Steve was talented, but he had never been able to see it for himself until now. He’s clearly passionate about his art, and Harley hopes he can be that passionate about something someday.

The first painting is of the team, standing together in New York awash in the warm glow of the evening sun. There’s mirth in Natasha’s eyes and laughter on Bruce’s lips that makes even Harley smile.

The second painting is Tony, in motion, awash in the blue light of his lab with a cup of coffee in his hand. He’s making a silly face that Harley recognizes as his one of concentration, lips twisted as he frowns at a blueprint.

The last painting is the one that stops Harley’s heart in his chest because it’s of him and Peter, curled together on the couch, fast asleep. Harley’s head is on Peter’s chest, curls a golden halo around his head, they’re both painted in soft purple light, Peter’s features peaceful in sleep. Harley doesn't know when it was painted, he’s fallen asleep on Peter a million times and woken up feeling safe in his arms.

It aches to know that maybe he’ll never be able to do that again. If Peter never gains his memories back, Harley will have to sleep alone on the couch. He’ll probably have to ask Tony to buy him a heated blanket and a weighted blanket. It won’t be the same though, nothing could replace the warmth of another body against his.

“Sorry about the mess,” Steve speaks up from behind him, startling Harley badly.

Holding his hands to his chest in an effort to calm his racing heart, Harley whirls around to see Steve standing in the doorway, an embarrassed flush across his pale cheeks as he scratches the back of his head. He offers Harley a small smile, eyes darting around the room.

“The paintings are really good,” Harley gestures around the room in awe. His eyes keep straying to the one of him and Peter, a pang ringing through his chest.

Steve grins uncomfortably, his eyes zeroing in on the one in the middle as his blush gets hotter. Harley knows what it feels like when his heart is on full display. “Thanks.” There’s an awkward pause between them before Steve clears his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “I have another guest room if you’d prefer to sleep there.”

Harley nods, following Steve out of the room to the other guest room on his floor. He doesn’t think he can be in the same room as that painting and not long for his best friend.

“This one is gonna be yours for now,” Steve pushes open the door, standing aside so Harley can step inside. The smell of paint and soap is faded, but the room is comfortable and homely. The white furniture stands out against the beautiful seascape Harley is sure Steve painstakingly painted onto the walls himself. Harley kicks off his shoes by the door, the sand-colored carpet soft against his feet as the tension drains out of his shoulders.

“Thank you, Steve,” Harley whispers turning to hug the supersoldier. Steve is like a second dad, always looking out for him and being the strong, consistent presence that his own father never was. He’s so grateful to have an incredible support system, to have a super dad. Since he moved in six months ago, Steve has showered him in nothing but strong support, unconditional affection, and the best food Harley has ever tasted.

“How about you take a shower while Tony brings down your jammies for you?” Steve gently pulls away, ruffling Harley’s hair. “Once you’re cozy, we can have some hot chocolate and you can get started on your homework.”

“I don’t know about that Steve, I think I might have forgotten my backpack in the kitchen.” Harley shrugs not all that upset that he could procrastinate another day. He only had a couple of math problems to do, but they could wait until Monday morning while Tony was driving him to school. 

Steve offers him a smug smirk pointing into his personal kitchen where Harley’s red and blue backpack sits by the barstool waiting for him. “I brought it up for you. I’ll even make you an ice cream sundae if you’d like.”

Harley groans loudly and with feeling, eyes raised to the ceiling. Why did homework have to be a thing? On the bright side, he liked asking Steve for help with his math, partially because Steve always got hilariously frustrated and partially because despite how much he complained about the education system and those “gosh darn” videos they kept using of him, he always patiently helped with each problem and made sure Harley understood them.

“Think about it this way,” Steve offers with an amused smirk, “if you finish it tonight, you’ll have the whole weekend to hang out with the team without worrying about having to do it later.”

He’s right. Though when it comes to parenting Harley he usually is so it doesn’t come as a surprise.

“Okay, Steve,” Harley nods, acquiescing, and Steve grins, clapping him on the shoulder before shutting the door between them.

The moment the door shuts, Harley’s smile melts off his face and he sighs feeling the weight of the day bearing down on his broad shoulders. He sighs heavily, heading to the bathroom and flicking on the lights. He doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror, blond hair a wild mess and dull blue eyes swimming in red. There are deep bags underscoring his eyes and his lips are a chapped mess. It makes a desolate picture that doesn’t even begin to reach the desperate angst clawing its way up his throat.

Harley’s feet can’t take the weight of his melancholy doesn’t feel like standing so he sits in the shower stall, spray turned up all the way and just barely scalding his skin.

With nothing to stop the floodgates, Harley remembers the early morning following a particularly crazy homecoming afterparty back in October. He had stumbled into the tower, a completely wasted bumbling mess, and smack into Tony who had apparently been worried sick about him. He, Peter, and Cap had been searching the city for his drunk ass all night while Pepper phoned in to hospitals and called police stations asking if he had been brought in.

Tony had yelled until Harley couldn’t bear to listen before storming off to his floor. Pepper had firmly told him they would be having a serious conversation about communication before following after her husband. Steve had given him the disappointment brows that he had seen a million times in detention and pressed a relieved kiss to his forehead before grounding him for a month. 

Peter had been the only one who wasn’t angry or upset with him. Nimble fingers had gently combed Harley’s hair out of his face and told him it would be okay. Peter drew him a bath and carefully washed his hair like he wanted every single strand to be squeaky clean and wasn’t disgusted when Harley ugly cried about being a total disappointment to the team, his newfound family. Peter was all whispers and a soft voice as he ran his palms over Harley’s shoulders, pulling the tension out of them and telling him no one could ever be anything but proud of him. 

He misses Peter, and Peter hasn’t even gone anywhere.

Running his fingers up and down his arms, Harley digs his nails into his skin, the physical pain pushing away the emotional turmoil roiling unpleasantly across his skull as he tries to bite back bile.

There’s no one to hear him sob over the sound of the water pounding against his skin, his salty tears mixing with the hot water streaming down his face and swirling down the drain.

He wants to be okay with the idea of Peter never remembering. He doesn’t want to hold out hope for something that’s never going to happen because he knows, after his father left, his heart won’t be able to take it. But he wants to be happy for Peter. And if MJ is what makes him happy, Harley will have to be able to settle for just being his friend.

Wiping the tears running down his face, he steels his resolve. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get over his quirky science nerd. He won’t ever stop longing for soft, gentle kisses, and late-night laughter, and falling asleep in his arms. He can’t stop himself from always longing for more if Peter just wants to be friends and nothing more. But he loves Peter enough to try.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](https://starksnack.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/starksnack/).


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